THE violent world of Thomas Jones is a place you enter at your own risk, and only the strong survive.

In the tunnel moments before kickoff, this is where and when the Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Jones transformation is complete.

“It’s kinda like you’re in a whole ‘nother world,” the Jets running back said. “You’re not really yourself. You know that for 60 minutes you’re gonna have to be a different person. I’m a nice guy, I’m not really a mean person. But those 60 minutes you gotta be angry, your adrenaline’s going, you’re winning, you’re losing, it’s back and forth, it’s just emotionally draining.”

Curtis Martin likened himself to a caged animal.

“Yeah, because you know it’s violent, physical,” Jones said. “The first play of the game might be a blitz, whatever linebacker I’m playing, the guy might be a 6-5, 260-pound guy and he’s coming downhill full speed; I’m 215 pounds, 5-9, 5-10, and I’ve gotta take this guy head on. I can’t take his legs out, I’ve gotta hit him. So in your mind, you’ve gotta be reckless … fearless.

“You know what can happen to you, you know the injuries that are out there, you know what can happen, but you still do it anyway, you’ve gotta be kinda fearless and kinda … not insane, but kinda crazy to even play this game, especially at this level. It’s brutal, man. It’s brutal. Guys are hurt and they’re still playing. The injury that most guys have here, the average person that doesn’t play football, they’ll be out for at least a month or two. But here, it’s if you can walk, then you can play.”

For a while, stymied by a barking calf, an unsettled offensive line, and a wounded Chad Pennington, Jones could not walk the walk toward New York’s great expectations. But today against the Dolphins, it is time for the real Thomas Jones to please stand up, time for him to run the Jets to 1-2, no matter how far he runs from any straw-that-stirs-the-drink proclamations.

“I’m here to do my job,” he said. “I’m not here to be all 11 guys on the field at one time.”

One healthy Thomas Jones is plenty.

“I remember one cut against me last year,” Kerry Rhodes said of a game against the Bears, “I was blitzing and he saw me, and he made the cut before I even got back there.”

Victor Hobson said, “It’s very rare that you get guys with the speed and the power that he has, and the vision.”

And the will.

“I could be playing Scrabble at home with my sisters, I don’t want to lose,” Jones said. “Once I get in the game, despite what’s going on, I try to stay positive, I try to imagine good things happening instead of drawing on negatives. I have a lot of pride in my ability, I have a lot of pride in what I bring to the table.”

He trains relentlessly to be strongest when others are weakest, in the fourth quarter, when the sight of fatigued defenders is exhilarating to him.

“You start to get that little feeling of excitement,” Jones said.

You play angry or else.

“It’s like being in a car accident every play,” Jones said. “You can’t go out there soft, and you can’t go out there nervous or scared, because those are the times when you get hurt or you don’t perform. I think a lot of guys have that approach going on the field, they’re angry in the fact that they want to do well so bad that they know that they have to do whatever it takes to do that, whether it’s trying to hurt a guy – not purposely – but pass protection, trying to put my helmet under his chin, or if I see a guy that’s kinda off-balance, trying to run him over and try to put him in the ground to let him know this is how it’s gonna be all game.”

On the bus to the stadium, following a restless night’s sleep, he will talk with his kid brother, Cowboys running back Julius Jones.

“Our motto every season is to try to get 1,000 yards, both of us at the same time,” Jones said. “Our motto is ‘Countdown to a G.’ ”